Hold Me Together
by wonderwall05
Summary: “You’re making it awful hard for me to hate you Malfoy.” She whispered regretfully. “I guess I’ll have to try harder.” He replied a smile gracing his features.
1. Its Gone

_And its gone... gone... going..._

His pale face shone in the dull moonlight, his red scar illuminated as one final insult. He had died for that scar, died for everything it stood for, a one last stand against evil. Hermione wanted to carve it out of his face; he would never have rest as long as that disgusting thing remained a reminder of all that was resting on his shoulders. A seventeen-year-old boy shouldn't have had to carry the weight of the world with him wherever he went. It was so unfair. She guessed it didn't even matter anymore, he would never sigh again that sad look in his lovely green eyes. He would never cry silently in the safety of his room when he thought no one could hear. He would never have to push away everyone he loved in some hopeless last attempt to save them. Harry wouldn't have to be the boy-who-lived any longer he was just the boy-who-died. History books would remember his name, maybe a picture would accompany those pages, but they would never remember him.

Hermione knew that she was doing something wrong as she looked at the corpse; his back arched slightly, that terrified expression on his face. She was supposed to be crying, it was her best friend lying right there in front of her. She didn't feel sadness she just felt a supreme sense of irony. Irony that the boy-who-lived was now the boy-who-died, that in order for the most evil man in the world to die, the most wonderful man in the world had to as well. That even after his death the world would still fear the day when another such as Voldemort would arise. Everything Harry had done for them seemed so pointless to her. It wasn't worth the consequences; it wasn't worth one god damned thing. But it was the most distinguishable and beautiful irony that a boy had to sacrifice himself for the whole world. Hermione felt the laughter bubbling in her stomach and as it flowed up through her trachea she didn't even wish it was tears, it spilled out of her mouth filling the air with its innocent sound. It seemed so crude, worse than the strongest profanity, the most disturbing thing anyone could have done at that moment. Yet no one understood that Hermione Granger had found the irony behind the whole world, she had seen its cowardly face as it turned its back to her friend.

It felt like years later that she sat on the raggedy old bed, with its pale blue sheets faded to some unnamed color, the paint was chipping on the walls of the room and the shelves were sagging towards the middle holding the dead and deserted playmates of the undeserving. A calendar was pinned to the wall and she smiled as she saw the small x's and the circled date. The battered armoire that was just waiting to collapse; it all seemed so tired.

She lay back and imagined what she looked like from above. Her face a pale cream, her nose a slight button small and unmemorable, her lips chapped and red from inattention, her frizzy unmanageable mop cushioning her head more than any pillow ever could, her clothes too baggy to show any discernable shape. Hermione wondered if people in heaven just looked down at you and caught every facet. Did they love the night when they saw people's faces rather than just the top of their useless heads? Did they see loved ones in the faces? Did the angels weep for what was still without them on Earth? She wanted him to see her now, but she hoped he didn't weep for her. He had wept enough during his lifetime. Hermione lay there silent and still until she heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway and she thought about how the occupants had no idea what had happened just two days ago. She began to think about whether they would even care. She had been warned to stay away from them, and she had fully intended on doing just that. Hermione had only wanted to see his room before it was turned into something else that didn't hold the memories of him. But, now she felt they deserved to know, no matter how they reacted. The Dursleys may never have loved him, yet they had kept him under their roof for sixteen years, didn't that count for anything? So she rose from the bed sparing only a glance for that calendar tacked to the wall. Walking down the stairs should've given her some sense of fear, she had seen these people only once, and even with all her intelligence she felt intimidated and inferior. But as she walked into that sparkling kitchen she didn't feel an ounce, they looked at _her_ in fear their eyes held no recognition.

"Who the hell are you?" The man said his voice angry as his face began to purple.

"Harry's dead." Hermione said no other words seemed to be able to fit besides those. They looked at her blankly, and she wondered if they understood. Surprisingly it was the young boy with the blond hair that spoke first, his voice deeper than she expected.

"What do you mean he's dead?" He said his voice tight as his eyes narrowed at her.

"He died two days ago during the Final Battle." Hermione said and those words were so hard to say because it all seemed so wrong.

"What Final Battle? There wasn't anything on the news!" He was showing emotion that she never thought would come from the child who had terrorized Harry.

"You wouldn't have there were spells to hide it from everyone and those who witnessed it-" She paused for a moment swallowing, "Most of them are dead, the others had their memories wiped."

"Why…why was he fighting?" That came from his aunt and Hermione was shocked forgetting for a moment that these people had no idea.

"He was the only one who could kill Voldemort." She said and they all stood silent shocked this proclamation, and she knew they wondering how they could have ever missed it, that there was something so special about the boy they treated so terribly. She left then heading for the door but a pudgy hand grabbed her arm. Hermione turned her head to look at Dudley Dursleys' face.

"Did it hurt much?" He whispered as if asking that question was some terrible type of sin. She wanted to answer truthfully yet she wanted him to hurt for all he had done to Harry.

"No it didn't hurt much when he died." She said quietly and he seemed to see past her words to all the pain that Harry had endured through the years because he paled, nodding before walking away. She watched him go and wondered if Harry's pain had just become his.

A/N: This is one of my really angsty stories personally I like it a lot. There are two more parts to this.

Your no-I-am-not-emo author,

Wonderwall


	2. This Is Morning

_This is morning when I spend the most time thinkin' 'bout what I've given up_

Hermione sat in the sterile hospital ward trying to ignore the concerned looks the Weaselys kept shooting at her. They wouldn't understand, they were the masters of loud emotions and the fact that Hermione hadn't cried was something strange and unnerving. Every one of them wanted to ask her why she didn't but none of them would. So she sat there pretending like they weren't observing her like some strange specimen.

When they entered the room the Weaselys parted so that she could reach his side first, and she did slowly her steps measured and sure. He didn't smile at her but she had known he wouldn't. Hermione would miss that crinkling at the corners of his eyes, the way his cheeks always reddened just a bit masking his freckles, and the way his nostrils flared when he was holding back some teasing comment. She went up to him and took his hand in hers stroking the little scars with her thumb, trying without words to tell him everything she felt, and when she looked up she wanted to cry a little because he was after all a Weasely and would never understand her. But, she didn't cry she just looked into the depths of his eyes and tried to draw out his pain, she didn't want him to suffer, he was going to blame himself like he always did and she would not allow it.

"We'll smile again Ron." She said leaning towards him her breath stirring his hair and he turned his face to stare into her eyes again and she cursed her inability to read people, she didn't know what thoughts were swirling within his head.

"Yeah," He paused for a moment his lips clenching slightly, "Yeah I suppose we will." He said there was no hope in his voice. It was better not to hope Hermione thought, after all the hoping they had done it was useless to try again.

As she stepped back and watched his family surround him all tears, and blustery attention she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be able to grieve. If when it came it would break her because Hermione Granger had to be the cool collected one, Hermione Granger had to hold everything together.

_You're the one that I wanted to find_

She wasn't quite sure why she had gone to visit him; maybe it was because she thought that he would release some pent up emotion in her. Before the Final Battle when she had imagined the future she pictured only seeing Malfoy through the bars of some cage. Instead she saw him across a smooth ebony table in a fancy restaurant; the evidence had cleared his name. Severus Snape had been the one to kill Dumbledore, and Malfoy hadn't appeared in the war so there was no way that he could be convicted. She wished that they had found some minor thing so that he was locked away and rotting in some dank cell.

"Granger stop glaring." He said and she noticed the lines at the corners of his eyes, she cursed her weak self for feeling sorry for him. He had lost everything in the war, well almost everything his family was gone and the manor but he still had that fortune stored in the vaults of Gringotts.

"I wish you were in prison." She said trying to stay strong, but he just looked at her instead of giving the reaction she wanted.

"You know sometimes I wish that too." His voice was soft and quiet Hermione found herself scared, he wasn't supposed to change.

"Why?" She asked her insatiable need for answers overriding her want to seem impassive.

"You know my parents may have seemed so cold to everyone else but they loved me." He sighed reaching up and rubbing his eyes. "They're dead now and maybe it'd be better if the dementors just sucked those memories away from me, all the happy memories so I could feel like it was okay for me to be alive."

"You're making it awful hard for me to hate you Malfoy." She whispered regretfully.

"I guess I'll have to try harder." He replied a cold smile gracing his features.

"Yeah you better." She muttered and he laughed something so genuine, that she just stared so blatantly before she began to laugh with him.

A/N: Another Hermione and Draco fic you ask? Read and see. I'm actually full of surprises.

Your lovely divine author,

Wonderwall


	3. Days and Nights

_Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be this hard_

_Oh take me back to the start_

It was Harry's funeral yet Hermione thought it had turned into more of a carnival. She looked around at all the faces that she didn't know and that Harry hadn't known, and wondered if it was the thought of their savior that drew them. Hermione resented it all, Harry wouldn't have wanted this, Harry would have liked to be laid beside his parents in the small graveyard in Muggle London underneath the bright lights of the street lamps. Harry wouldn't want to be interred on the sloping grounds of Hogwarts near the tomb of Albus Dumbledore. She knew he wouldn't have thought he deserved it, that it was an honor only Dumbledore deserved. Harry wouldn't have wanted a funeral at all. He wasn't one for goodbyes, she smiled at the thought. He never did say goodbye maybe that was just so perfect for him. He wouldn't see the hurt of his loved ones, he would be free.

"You okay Hermione?" Ron asked from beside her, they sat at the front of the crowd in the honored persons seats. Or as Hermione liked to say "The Minister of Magic and co.'s seats", somehow she was surprised that she was sitting there she thought the Minister had reserved them all for himself and some others.

"I'm fine." She said turning to smile at Ron who only nodded in response. She was working on him, determined to make him smile again. If she looked up she was sure she'd see a pair of grey eyes with lines at the corners looking at the interaction between Ron and her, but she didn't dare. Hermione would never dare, it would be like going from the shallows to treading water in the open ocean, and she had never been a good swimmer. It went quiet all of a sudden and she looked to the pulpit to see the Minister standing behind it. He began his speech and almost instantly anger began to bubble up inside of her. He spoke of Harry's loyalty to the Ministry and his support of their decisions. This was a fucking publicity stunt at Harry's funeral and Hermione saw red. She stood shakily walking over to the pulpit and pushing aside the Minister; she ignored the gasps of the crowd. When she looked up she saw those grey eyes and it only caused to nudge her forwards, and she happily plunged into the open ocean. Hermione cleared her throat, and stood tall.

"Everything about today is wrong." She paused and there was mass confusion. "Harry Potter wasn't the savior of the world. Harry Potter was a boy who carried a burden that was crushing him. A boy who was terrified of what he knew he must do, but he did it anyways in an extreme act of love for his friends, his family, and all those he knew who had died, and yes some far way down the list was the rest of the wizarding race." Her anger was consuming her and as she continued her voice cracked. "All this is a charade, a mockery of the boy who meant everything to Ron, to Ginny, to Albus Dumbledore, to Sirius Black, to Lily and James, to Remus Lupin, to Hagrid, to Neville Longbottom, to me, but felt completely worthless everyday. Some of you may claim that you would have died for Harry Potter, but he died for _you._" A feeling was running swiftly through her veins and she couldn't identify it. "It's a shame that none of you knew Harry the funny, caring kid who played Quidditch in his best friend's backyard, the Harry that wouldn't have wanted a funeral at all, who wanted to be buried beside his parents. It's a shame that as time goes by he won't be Harry he'll only be Harry Potter and the only people that will remember the boy behind the name are those who he meant everything to." Slowly she drew back from the pulpit feeling dizzy and disoriented, Hermione looked up and saw those eyes before she turned and walked away. Walked away from the people who could never understand.

She felt the first sob hit her as she walked through the gates leaving Hogwarts. The second brought her too her knees, the breath gone from her body. Hermione let loose a long keeling cry her hands reaching up to tear at her hair as she felt her world breaking apart. The third hit her and she slammed her fists against the ground her anger unbearable.

"Why! Why did you have to take him from me?" She ignored the pain as rocks bit into her hands causing them to run red with blood. "He never did anything wrong!" She flashed through years of memories and the tears ran down her face. "He was everything to us." She whispered and she felt arms encircle her waist and she fought against them. "He did everything that was asked of him! He was supposed to live!" She screamed even as she was dragged to her feet and turned to face Malfoy. She focused her anger on him beating his chest with her fists.

She was slowly breaking as the strength left her and she merely collapsed against him helpless. Hermione Granger was supposed to be the cool collected one. Hermione Granger was supposed to hold herself together. But Hermione only wanted to die to join Harry wherever he was. Hermione couldn't stand the pain any longer. The irony of the world was crushing her and she couldn't forget his laugh and his jokes, she couldn't forget anything about him. Hermione felt fresh pain and she screamed as it hit her, days and nights with Harry and Ron.

"Why! Why?"

A/N: This was really depressing to write because I really wanted to make it into some Draco Hermione romance fic but I resisted and I like the results. So review MOTHERFUCKERS. Just cus its angsty and not smutty doesn't mean you shouldn't hit that review button you little twerps.

Your most benevolent author,

Wonderwall


End file.
